


A Gardener's Calluses

by amyfortuna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Afterlife, Cunnilingus, F/F, Gardens & Gardening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9608897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: Pomona, following her own death, ends up in the Gardens of Yavanna.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [song_of_staying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/song_of_staying/gifts).



> This [picture by Cliopadra](http://cliopadra.deviantart.com/art/Yavanna-584559411) is very close to my idea of what Yavanna looks like in this story.
> 
> Thank you for this amazing prompt, I hope I've done it justice!

Always, after a defeat and a respite, the shadows grow again, and evil, in the form of the desire to control life and death itself, takes shape afresh and comes forth. 

Once more, twenty years after the death of Voldemort, darkness loomed over Hogwarts, threatening to wipe out all that was green and growing. Pomona Sprout, her hair white now, gave her life in the defence of her students and of her garden, saving among others the life of the young fifth-year Hufflepuff, Mira Westervelt, who was the Chosen One of that time to defeat the forces of evil. When the threat was finally overcome and the wizarding world safe once more, Mira told all that her teacher and Head of House had done to save her, and Pomona Sprout was declared a Hero of the Resistance, a statue raised to her in the gardens of Hogwarts, and her name entered in the long list of those who had defended the school with their lives. 

Pomona herself, however, awoke to birdsong and the feel of soft breezes on her face. She lay on cool grass, and for a long moment simply revelled in the feel of and smell of the earth below her and the delicate brush of the air on her face. She felt strong and young again, ready to leap up and run a race, but was content to just relax and enjoy the moment. 

After a time she opened her eyes and sat up, taking stock of where she was. She had been clothed in a soft brown robe which was tied at the waist with a green sash. About her a wide stretch of grass, green and cool, spread out in all directions. She had been lying atop a small hill, and as she slowly got to her feet, she could see a forest to the east, where the Sun was just rising, a lake to the north at the foot of the hill, and near the lake a maze, like the one in the grounds of Hogwarts. To the west and south, a great garden was laid out, and small figures were moving about within in it. 

Halfway up the hill to the west, a woman stood alone, looking upwards, and she was clad all in green, with leaves for garments and flowers in her hair. She said no word, but beckoned with her hand, and Pomona, dazed, made her way down the long slope toward her. 

As she drew closer, Pomona realised that the woman was not clad in green so much that she _was_ green, and vine leaves tangled about her body like she was a great tree. Flowers seemed to spring from her long curly hair, and a merry look was in her eyes. "Welcome to the gardens of Yavanna, faithful Pomona," she said brightly, and held out her hands. 

Pomona took them into her own, marvelling at the calluses which matched her own exactly, despite the skin that touched hers being green. Knowledge flowed into her mind at the touch, and it was as though she could feel the foundations of the earth beneath her. Every blade of grass, every tree swaying in the breeze, the bees that hummed from flower to flower in the nearby gardens, the cat that lay sunning itself on the warm tiles of the path between the orderly rows of fruit and flowers, all of these and far more Pomona could sense on a deep level. The world was full of life and beauty. No darkness could quench it, no shadow could block it out. 

"Queen of all the Earth," she said, falling to her knees without further thought, Yavanna's hands still clasped in her own, "let me serve you in your gardens from this day forward." 

Yavanna, laughing, bent and raised her to her feet. "It was for this very purpose that I called you here," she said. "You have known me and loved me well when all you could see of me was in your plants and in your garden. Now you shall know me better still. Come, let me show you your new work." She slipped her hand through Pomona's arm and led her off into the gardens. 

Days passed by without weariness now. The sun rose and set, and always in the gardens of Yavanna there was laughter and joy, and magic at a deeper level than Pomona had ever known it. She did not need a wand or any kind of incantation now to provide for her needs and tend to her duties. She was no longer conscious of _using_ magic, but it was more like magic flowed through her as a conduit, and all she did was direct it. 

Many different kinds of people worked in the gardens. Some were Maia, elusive creatures prone to changing shape whenever they felt like it. Others were Elves, some of whom had worked in the gardens for all the ages of the world, and others who had spent thousands of years on the Hither Shores and now came to the gardens for a respite after war and sorrow. And a very few were mortals, both hobbits and Men, granted a reprieve after death for a time, as Pomona was, to continue the work they loved. 

All the plants that Pomona had known in life grew taller and stronger here under the bright sun. During the night, cool mists blew across the valley, watering the plants. Pomona, in a small house built into a rise in the land, much like a hobbit hole except that it was human-sized, watched the sun rise every morning from eastward facing windows. No matter how early she went out to her garden, Yavanna was always there. Sometimes she planted herself like a tree and stood waving her branches and leaves up to the bright Sun in the fresh breezes, sometimes she took the form of a rabbit or a hart, but most often she could be found in the shape Pomona had first seen her - a tall green woman, clad in leaves, whose brown eyes shone with laughter, and whose calluses were those of a gardener. 

One day, Pomona emerged from her home at dawn, and went to her garden. She had not tied her hair back, and it flowed down her back, caught by the breeze. After a little while of working in the garden, repotting one small sapling into a larger pot, her hands were muddy. Nearby, a stream danced merrily down from the hills, so she went there to wash her hands, and found Yavanna kneeling on the green moss, staring down into the clear water, caught in some mysterious contemplation. 

Setting aside her plans to wash her hands clean in favour of not disturbing the Earthqueen, she settled down on the bank beside Yavanna, her feet tucked under her. A few moments passed, and then Yavanna's arm slid around her and drew her close. Yavanna was warm and smelled of fresh grass and earth, and Pomona drifted off into a reverie, almost like one of the Elves she'd met. 

Yavanna's hand lay against her chest, caressing her softly, as if the goddess were gentling a wild animal under her care. Shivers raced all through Pomona at the warm embrace, and after a moment, she bent and kissed the hand that petted her. Yavanna turned at that, as if she was just now realising that she held a person rather than some animal close, and gathered Pomona closer still, bending to press a kiss to her brow, and then to her cheek, and then, as Pomona turned into the kisses, her mouth. 

If anyone, later, had ever asked, Pomona would have only been able to say that Yavanna tasted of warm light and earth mingled, like the feeling of lying in the warm grass on a sunny day. In her kiss there was the scent of roses, the smell of carrots fresh from the earth, the taste of leaves and grass -- the taste of 'green' itself, Pomona thought -- and a feeling of wonderment and delight, almost as keen as waking from death. 

Pomona relaxed into Yavanna's arms, feeling overwhelmed with joy, contentment, and a buzzing, sparkling feeling in her spine that was excitement and arousal. Yavanna laid her down on the soft moss, and slid her hands -- those callused hands -- down Pomona's curves, tracing the warp and the weft of her, smiling as though she looked upon a particularly favoured creation. Yavanna gently brushed Pomona's soft brown robes aside and pressed her hands up between Pomona's legs, then bent forward, her treelike hair flowering before Pomona's eyes, and kissed her thighs, first the right, then the left, and finally pressed her mouth between them. 

Pomona arched upward into the warmth of Yavanna's mouth, unable to restrain a breathless gasp. She could taste the earthiness of Yavanna in her mouth still from their kiss, could feel what Yavanna was doing to her in the same way that a landmass feels an earthquake. Her whole focus narrowed down to the sight of Yavanna's head between her legs, to the feel of Yavanna's tongue licking her, to the smell of the flowers that were blooming in Yavanna's hair, to the sounds of the water running beside her and the tiny moans she could not help making. She felt as though she could have shouted and no one would have heard if Yavanna willed it so. 

Sinking back into the earth, groaning in pleasure, she closed her eyes, and gave herself up to Yavanna's mouth. Every stroke, every lick, every touch, felt magnified a thousandfold, and her whole world now existed in the space between her thighs, to the touch and the softness and the pleasure and the passion. It could have been five minutes or a hundred years and Pomona would not have known the difference, before she finally peaked in endless rapture, crying out unrestrained and full of bliss, feeling as though she was flying apart into a thousand small pieces that her Queen would have to put back together before she was of any use. 

She came back to awareness to the sound of Yavanna's hair rustling and the feeling of her warm body settling down next to her. 

There was laughter in her voice when she spoke. "Queen of all the Earth," she said, "let me bring you the same joy that you have brought to me." 

When she opened her eyes, Yavanna was smiling down at her, and bent to kiss her once again, extending her hand to take Pomona's. Their hands met and clasped together, the hands of gardeners.


End file.
